


Scars

by glitteringnights



Series: The Future of the Universe [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Sequel, cal is silly, merrical - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteringnights/pseuds/glitteringnights
Summary: A few months after the destruction of the Holocron, the Mantis crew are finally starting to search out more links to the growing resistance. However, when Cal and Merrin are sent to look for an informant, not everything goes as planned, especially when Cal is rather fidgety around a certain Nightsister.
Relationships: BD-1 & Cal Kestis, Cal Kestis/Merrin, Greez Dritus & Cal Kestis
Series: The Future of the Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136798
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	Scars

“I really don’t know why you find this so funny.”

Jumping through the lush green trees, Cal was tailing behind the Nightsister that had so aptly captured his attention for the past three months. 

“You are just upset that you are so easy to fool,” She called back. Cal watched Merrin jump down gracefully from the broken, jagged tree stump into an earthy clearing. Cal stopped short, surveying the ground below him. Merrin, unsurprisingly, was nowhere in sight. 

The two of them had been out on a forest planet Cal wasn’t familiar with. Merrin had asked Cere and Greez a few days ago if there were any nearby planets that held specific fruits and herbs, or at least variations of them, since it was unlikely to find any exactly like those on Dathomir. She needed more supplies for her potions and pastes, she’d said, and claimed Cal was depleting her collection far too fast, usually going towards his various injuries. After some time of research and scanning, Cere had found a planet that was suitable for the materials Merrin required. And off they were sent, to find what she needed. BD trilled and beeped happily at the prospect of exploring new things. 

That was, until Merrin came up with the idea to hijack his lightsaber. 

Cal had been reaching to slice through a shroud of vines for them to easily pass through when he noticed it was missing, and by that point, Merrin was already gone. 

And so, Cal Kestis found himself chasing after the rather fast Nightsister. She was leaner than him, that was for sure, and Cal still often suffered from dull pains of his saber wound, inhibiting him of his full physical abilities to some degree every now and again. 

Cal got a running start, jumping off the cliff and bracing his landing with help from the Force, making sure he didn’t end up in an embarrassing heap. BD-1 let out a series of noises, to which Cal answered: “Yeah, I’m not sure where she is either, buddy.”

Cautiously, he roamed around the area, squinting into the foliage of the forest. Dimly, he could feel her presence in the Force. Hers was different than the rest of the Mantis crews, shrouded, but still there. She was harder to sense, likely to do with her usage of the force. 

To his left, Cal heard a rustle of leaves and a flash of red. He took off, hot on her trail. 

Once again, he was lost in the thick undergrowth, with no Merrin. 

He sighed, and went to quiet his mind. 

Cal knelt down on the flat earth, trying to hone his senses. If he couldn’t sense Merrin, maybe his connection to his saber would be helpful. The hum of his crystals called out to him at all times, and this was no different. The buzz was fuzzy in his senses, until he forced himself to reach deeper, imagining the crystals behind all the heavy metals of the hilt. 

Merrin was somewhere in front of him, when he opened his eyes, he caught the blur of red and gray in the corner of his vision. 

Using an old, old method he’d learned from Jedi Knight Aayla Secura years ago, he quieted his mind. She had visited one of his classes in his youngling years, and taught them about how to mask your presence in the Force, your body and mind as one, as to not be sensed or seen. Cal had never tried this before. His teaching was limited, but he figured it was his best shot at sneaking up on Merrin. 

Sure, it was probably an inappropriate use of the Force. 

But he couldn’t help breaking some rules for her. 

He could only hope it’d work. 

Cal let the feeling of the Force wash over him, blending in, letting it guide him. He melded his presence into the Force, instead of being an entity in it. 

He stood, slowly, moving forward as he kept his mind empty. When he stepped on the forest floor, he made no sound. It didn’t take long for him to find the hidden Nightsister in the trees, with his heightened senses. She was pressed against the bark of a grand tree, catching her breath. Suddenly, Cal let his mental barriers drop and lunged out, grabbing Merrin by the waist and slinging her over his shoulder in one swift movement, awkwardly plucking his saber from her hands. BD trilled excitedly. 

He could tell she was dazed, until she’d registered what happened and grunted sadly, beaten. 

“Was this really necessary?” She asked, her legs bouncing against his back as he walked to the clearing. 

“No,” Cal replied, “but neither was you taking my lightsaber when we came here to look for your materials.”

“Materials that you depleted,” she countered. 

He shrugged exaggeratedly, “Maybe. But I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to get it back, and I wasn’t really looking forward to chasing you all the way to the Mantis.”

Merrin sighed ruefully. She let him carry her, arms crossed and scowling. Soon, she squirmed out of his grasp when they reached the clearing. She not so gracefully knocked Cal down with her, him landing in a messy heap of limbs next to her. BD-1 jumped off Cals shoulder before he could get caught in his embarrassing fall. 

“Ah, I guess that was owed,” he said sheepishly, flat on his back, arms spread out wide. 

Merrin nodded, “Very much so.” She sat up next to him, yanking blades of grass from the ground and sprinkling them onto his face. 

When a piece fell into his mouth, he started to sputter. “Thanks, Mer,” he said sarcastically, batting the grass away from his skin. 

Despite the unpremeditated chase, Cal had fun. It felt good to get out, run, explore with a person his age. It reminded him of when he was younger, and surrounded by his friends. Yes, Cere and Greez were good company, but nothing compared to being with someone who grew up at the same time as him. On Bracca, there were very few young scrappers, Cal was nearly the only one. Many of them had come on board pre-Empire, like Prauf, and were forced to shift from engineers to scrappers. In the last five years, his integral developmental years, he was always surrounded by adults and never kids. Now, with Merrin a part of the crew, it felt good being here, with her. Cal was sure she felt the same after being alone for so long at such an early age. 

“This reminds me of my childhood,” Merrin started, “Ilyana and I, as well as our other sisters, would run around for hours, when we were not practicing our magicks.” She let herself fall back onto the green grass, parallel to Cal, who still hadn’t moved. BD-1 hopped next to her, trilling, as she started to pet his head. 

“I know what you mean,” he agreed, “on Bracca, I couldn’t really have fun, it was all work. And I’m sure if I started running through the Mantis, I wouldn’t hear the end of it from Greez.”

“You already bleed all over his ship, as it is,” Merrin said, “tearing through the Mantis would simply be the final straw.”

Cal scoffed, turning his head to look at her, “Hey, I don’t get hurt that much.” He was studying her side profile, the curve of her nose, her tattoos, the way her face rested. 

After seeing his face turn out of the corner of her eyes, she followed suit, “Yes. You do.”

He scowled, “Okay, well, not that badly.” 

Merrin turned onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. She was closer now. She cocked a brow. “Mmhmm, Cal.” She reached out to poke a rather big bruise he’d received a few days ago that she knew laid under his tunic. 

He grunted at the sensation, the area was still tender, but healing, nonetheless. “Point taken.” 

“You should take more care,” Merrin said, retracting her hand to fiddle with the small patch of grass between them, “I won’t always be able to heal you.”

“I haven’t got myself killed, yet,” He mused, “survived this long, that must mean something.”

The witch cast him a doubtful look, a frown taking place on the corners of her lips, “I don’t like when you talk like that.”

He sighed, “I know. I’m sorry, Merrin.”

She reached out to lightly cradle his jaw with her hand. Rubbing her thumb over one of his many scars, she sighed. 

Cal enjoyed being around Merrin very much. In the days following her arrival on the ship, he’d thought they’d strengthen their friendship surprisingly fast. Perhaps that was a result of their shared experiences, knowing they could relate to one another. After Nur, they’d gotten even closer, and it’d only been a few months since then. He had friends once again, and Cal cherished Merrin very much. 

Perhaps he cherished her even more so than just on a friend's level. 

But he was still a teen boy—fumbling, awkward at times, uncertain—and to help his cause, he was a boy that had grown up in an order that forbade attachments. 

Quite frankly, Cal was stuck. 

The Order was no more, it’d fallen for a reason, as much as he hated to admit it. There were imperfections riddled throughout the Jedi Order, in both its code and teachings. They were able to be tricked, manipulated, because of their faults. Perhaps, with this new Order Cere hoped to help rebuild, they’d be able to mend the mistakes of the past. 

And maybe, attachments wouldn’t be so looked down upon. 

That’s what Cal hoped, anyway. 

He understood the temptation of the Darkside, had seen it first hand in Cere, because of what happened to her own padawan. Her attachment. He saw what his future would have been. 

But Cere resisted, and she understood nothing more could be done. Attachments couldn’t be the sole pull of the Darkside, Cal thought, there were other factors, too. And maybe, with time and dedication, this new order could implement teachings that taught students to accept loss in their attachments, let it become a part of them, rather than threaten to destroy them from the inside out. 

One could hope, he supposed. 

Honestly, Cal wasn’t even sure how Merrin felt. He’d learned her actions, how she acted and expressed emotions. But still, she was confusing, unpredictable at times. Maybe that’s how all women were, Cal really didn’t know. 

The way she was looking at him though, as she held his cheek in her hands... had to mean something, right?

Acting on pure instinct, Cal scrunched his eyes up, mentally preparing himself, and he moved his face closer to hers, lips slightly pursed—

“What are you doing?”

He abruptly stopped, and felt the dread sink in, embarrassment melting deep into his bones. Her voice wasn’t judgmental, instead soft, as her hand still rested on his face. 

He jerked his head away immediately. “Uh—I'm sorry! You know what? I think we’ve got everything we need. Let’s get back, Greez will wanna leave soon. I’ll meet you there.” Using all the speed he could possibly muster, Cal shot up, half running-half walking, as he disappeared deep into the greenery, even using the Force to indirectly speed him up, so it didn’t look quite like he had literally bolted away, with BD hot on his trail. 

Once he was sure Merrin had either used her magick to take herself back to the ship, or was out of earshot, Cal groaned pathetically. “Ugh, I’m an idiot, BD!” He totally misread the situation. 

His droid companion beeped sadly. Cal would never act on impulse ever again, he decided. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

He knew they were going to stop at the populated town on the other side of the planet, and his only hope was that Merrin would go in his stead as he curled up in the storage unit and attempted to hide out his embarrassment. 

Back to the ship it was, he sighed. 

-

Cal dejectedly plopped into his designated seat at the kitchen table. Once he’d arrive back on the Mantis, Cal had promptly gone to his seat and waited for Greez to take off so they could make their supply run, stiffly walking past Merrin from where she normally sat during take off. Merrin and Cere had gone out to the local towns market to stock up on some basic materials. After earlier, Cal had neglected to join them, and instead took to staying onboard. 

Greez was frying something up across the way, what it was, Cal didn’t know. He let out a rather large sigh and propped his cheek against his hand, looking absently in front of himself. His dramatics happened to get the attention of their star cook, who rolled his eyes and made his way over while whatever he was making popped and sizzled away. 

“Hey, kid. Mind keeping it down?” Greez asked, half joking. “Weren’t you supposed to go out with Cere and the witch? I told you, I needed a new jumpsuit.”

Greez watched as Cal ignored his verbal prodding. Muttering to himself, Greez bunched up the ends of his apron and sat down directly across Cal, so he was forced to focus on him. 

“What’s got you down, kid?”

Only when Greez was in his direct line of vision did Cal acknowledge him. “Nothing,” he muttered. 

“Ah! Come on, no mumbling. Something is obviously bothering you, if you’re moping around is any indication.” Greez said, lifting two of his arms up in mock shock for emphasis. 

Cal quirked an eyebrow at the latero. “I do not mope.”

“Sure. And I don’t get the creeps from your little witch girlfriend. Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid.”

Cal felt his temple pulse. “Nightsister,” he corrected, “and she’s not—whatever. Don’t you have... something else to be doing? Literally, anything else?”

“Nope!” Greez exclaimed, stretching out all his arms in a dramatic arch. “Food’s cookin’, doesn’t need my attention. Now,” he leaned onto the table, closer to the sad teenage mess in front of him, “come on, spill. You can talk to ol’ Greezy.”

The knight eyed him wearily. “You wouldn’t get it,” he said, exasperated. 

“Try me,” Greez countered. 

Cals frown deepened. He narrowed his eyes at the ships captain, weighing his options. Greez would mock him for his problems, he had no doubt, but slowly, Cal was beginning to learn to tell people when he was having troubles. Reluctantly, he sighed and gave in. “Promise me one thing: you won’t mention this to anyone else.”

“There’s only two other people in this crew, kid,” Greez replied. His face softened at Cals glare of annoyance. “I won’t. Go on.”

Cal let his head dip as he spoke, turning it away and whispering his words. 

“Speak up, Cal! Can’t keep avoiding it.” Greez whined. 

With the most substantial huff Greez had ever heard, Cal looked at him and threw out his words: “IthinkIlikeMerrinandI’mprettysureIblewanychanceIeverhadwithhertoday.”

The pilot sat back and blinked. “Hold on, hold on, hold on. Slow down, kid.” 

Cal was flustered and frustrated and embarrassed. “I like Merrin. More than friends.”

“Eh, anyone could’ve told ya that. You must be the last to figure it out.” Greez waved his two right hands in the air. 

The Jedi felt his face flush, then pale, “...What?”

“It’s clear, Cal. Has been for a while now, actually,” he said thoughtfully, “anyone could tell. Actually... I happened to place a bet with Cere. She wasn’t too, eh... keen... on the idea to begin with. Seems like I’m gonna win.”

“Hold on. You... you gambled on me and Merrin? Greez, why?” Cal asked, dumbstruck by the fact that everyone could tell. 

“A bet,” he corrected, his index finger pointed in the air, “but that’s besides the point. You’re not very good at concealing how you’re feeling, kid. The only one that might not have noticed is the witch. She’s tough to read, so I don’t really know.” 

Cal let his head thump ungracefully in front of him, onto the table. “My life is over.”

“Eh, don’t be like that. Anyway, I don’t really see the problem here,” the latero dismissed. 

He let his head roll into its side. “The problem is that I’ve probably ruined any chances I’ve ever had with her today.” Cal groaned. “I’ve killed an inquisitor, fought another, and escaped from a Sith Lord. Why is this so difficult?”

“Look kid,” Greez said, setting a hand onto the disheartened boy in front of him, “I don’t know what you did. And I don’t really care. Sure, I can imagine how stupid and embarrassing it must’ve been—“

“Not helping.”

“—but Merrin’s willing to listen. She’s finally learned how to move forward with her life, and so have you, and maybe moving forward includes the both of you. Together.” 

Cal lifted his head slightly, eyeing the alien through the loose hairs that framed his forehead. “Greez, that might be the wisest thing you’ve ever said. I didn’t expect that.”

“Wow!” He exclaimed in fake offense. “I’m hurt. You know, I’ve been around. broken a lot of hearts.” He leaned forward, putting his weight on one arm. “Advice is my specialty.”

Cal looked doubtful. “You? Breaking hearts? Really, Greez?”

“Of course! What, when I was younger I had all the ladies swooning over me.”

“Yeah, right.” Cal scoffed. 

“Really! Here, let me give you a few tips from a veteran,” Greez encouraged, looking up thoughtfully, as if he was sorting through his memory. 

The human jutted out his bottom lip in chagrin, “I don’t think that’s necessary—“

“You know the rules,” the cook went on, “romance is a must. You need to be suave.”

“No—“

“Gotta figure out what she likes,” He encouraged, still not stopping despite Cals protests. 

“Greez, you don’t—“

“Be gentle,” he enunciated, “women like that kind of stuff.”

“Please stop talking.”

“I’m not ready for little jedi-witch babies to be running around the ship, so make sure to use—“

“I’m seventeen!” Cal interrupted, his voice high pitched and cracking. “Please, please stop talking.”

Greez tsked, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what’s most important is that you be you. No one likes a fake persona.”

“Thanks, Greez,” he said weakly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Even with Greez’s risqué comments, Cal nonetheless found it helpful to at least share what had been bothering him so much. He would... probably not turn to Greez for relationship advice again. Not that Cere would be any better, she was a part of the Order, after all.

“Course, Kid. Anythin’ else?” He asked. 

Now this caused a debate in Cal's mind. Would he dare go further, or end it there, for both his sanity, and to prevent Greez’s big mouth from getting, well, bigger. 

“You said Merrin’s hard to read,” he started slowly. “I agree. But... She’s so touchy. Physically, I mean.” Merrin would always be tapping Greez’s head, resting her hand on Ceres shoulder, ruffling Cals hair, and sometimes even leaning against him. She liked to be close to people, he noticed, and she didn’t shy away from touch. Right after they had officially become allies, he’d held out the object he sought out to her, and she immediately responded by cupping his own hands. She’d known him for so little time after Nur, when she’d been the first to go up and hug him with no delay. 

“I don’t know if it’s a Nightsister thing, if they were just all close, or if it’s because she was alone for so many years.” He continued. After spending so long on his own, Cal hadn’t experienced physical displays in so long. Hugging his fellow younglings, running up the the Jedi who would visit when he was so young. Merrin was refreshing. Cal liked the physical aspect of friendship, he missed it. But he was hesitant to be touchy around people after his isolation, her Merrin seemed like expressing her comradeship through touch was a given. “I don’t know if it means something, or it’s just how she is.”

“Well, Cal,” Greez paused, “I can’t speak for her, of course. But I’d say trust your gut on this one. Maybe ask her about it, eh? Could be worth a shot.” He shrugged. “That’s all I got, kid.”

After Cal had murmured his final thanks to Greez he heard the whirring of the ship's ramp lower, soon followed by the swish of the main door. Partially relieved by the presence of the rest of the crew, partially stressed about seeing Merrin, Cal's attention piqued when Cere and Merrin came onto the ship. BD was whirring from where he was perched on Merrins shoulder. Both women held a bag. 

Cere made her way to the holotable, setting down her supplies. “We didn’t get everything we needed,” she said, “but when we were in town we overheard something about Saw and his resistance. Managed to get the location of an informant out of him.”

Merrin wasn’t far behind Cere. BD-1 jumped off of her to excitedly scurry off to Cal, hoping on the table and revealing in the taps and strokes and hey buddy from Cal. 

Her eyes darted from Greez to Cal. “We will be going to Fermic.”

“Ugh!” Greez exclaimed, sliding off his stool, “just when I think we’ll be able to settle down for a while.”

“It wouldn’t have worked out, anyway,” Cere said wistfully, shaking her head. “Too many stormtroopers here for my liking.”

“Fine, fine,” Greez grumbled. “Anyway, sit down. Dinner’s ready.”

-

“They have a series of informants,” Cere explained. “If one gets captured, the others don’t have any additional information, thus preventing the Empire from catching on to what the resistance has planned.”

“Alright, so all we have to do is find the information, give them the code phrase, and find another?” Cal asked. 

“That’s right. All I know is that they’ll be in town. But we can’t land on the community pad, there’s too high of a stormtrooper presence here.”

Greez grunted from where he sat in the pilot seat, “Seems like a lot of work, if you asked me.”

“You’re not the one who has to go out,” Cal threw him a sideways glance. 

“Ehh... that’s true. But, I still don’t like it.”

Cere lightly shook her head and continued. “The informant will be outside a cantina in the town closest to where we’ll land. Merrin has the code phrase.”

The Nightsister nodded from her place besides the ex-Jedi. “Yes. I’ll join you Cal, mainly to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Great, Cal thought. He loved Merrins presence on missions, he really did. Too much. But this was just going to be awkward. “If this is just a retrieval mission, won’t it be easier if I just go? I mean, we’re hoping to avoid a scrap, right?”

Merrin frowned from across the holotable that projected the map of the planet. “You don’t want me to join you?”

“No! No, that’s not it. I was just thinking that it’d be easier if I just went.” He said lamely. Great, indeed. He saw Greez smirk not-so-subtlety. Cal fought the urge to scowl.

Cere shook her head. “No, Merrin goes too. She knows all the additional details, in case there are any... complications.”

“Of course,” he agreed weakly. The Force was not on his side today. 

“Come then,” Merrin said, giving the map one last glance. “We must get going.”

Cal watched as Merrin descended down the ramp, with her usual march. He sighed, glancing once towards Greez who was giving him a few thumbs-ups before reaching down to haul BD into his normal perch. 

Cal went to catch up to Merrin, attempting to push back his embarrassment from yesterday. “BD has the map all loaded,” he said in an attempt to fill the silence. He pared the little droid on the head. 

“Good,” Merrin replied, her normal tone. She didn’t seem to be on edge, it just seemed that he was the awkward one, Cal wagered. 

They weren’t too far from the established settlement. Greez had landed the Mantis just far enough that it was shrouded by the words native terrain, though not far enough that it wouldn’t take long to make the trek there. 

There were a few lone stormtroopers doing their scheduled patrols. The two were able to avoid them. Better to not cause any commotion. 

Finally, there was just one more hill to climb until the city would come into view. “BD, can I see the map?” Cal asked. Trills answered him, the BD-1 projected the holographic map. 

“Alright. Almost there.” Cal said, and looked over to Merrin, who nodded in response. 

Cal reached his hand out to Merrin to help her over a branch. In his head, he was debating whether or not to breach the topic of yesterday. He was afraid of what she’d say, he realized. Cal was also afraid of making a fool of himself further. Her silence was nerve wracking. He didn’t know if it was just because he was uncharacteristically silent, or the events were wracking her brain, too. Cal didn’t particularly like the latter idea. 

Summoning all his courage that he’d accumulated, he decided to speak. “Merrin, I... I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

“Go on,” she encouraged, dipping her heels into the ground to get a better grip. 

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “I know I was, uh, weird. And I never meant to—Force, Merrin, look out!” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a trooper with a grenade launcher. He sensed him far too late, and felt his heart race as the Imp raised the weapon. 

Acting as fast as possible, Cal raised his hands, using the Force to redirect the oncoming blast. 

He was too slow. 

While he managed to lessen the impact, Cal got pushed backward, tumbling into the dirt. 

“Cal!” Merrin shouted, running to his side. The knight took the brunt of the explosion, as he had shoved Merrin back moments before. 

“Stupid Jedi,” Merrin grunted. “Cal! Wake up!” She shook his body to make sure he wasn’t dead. 

Still breathing, she noted, just unconscious. 

Feeling adrenaline pump through her veins, Merrin whipped her head back to look at the stormtrooper. He was reloading his blaster, soon to aim for another shot. 

BD was nuzzling Cal. Quickly, she hauled Cal over her shoulders, making sure the little droid was clutched onto him. Changing to herself, Merrin used her magick to bring them back to the ship before the stormtrooper was able to blast them to bits. 

Merrin stumbled as her spell fell away, the green mist that had enveloped them seconds earlier dissipating. Cals weight was awkward, and she had trouble securing her footing. “Cere! Greez!” She yelled from the outside of the ramp, “Cal’s hurt!”

Cere came rushing out at the alarm in her voice, looking bewildered. “Oh, no. Not again.” Moving fast, for Cals sake, the elder woman helped Merrin put him down before taking his limp legs into her hands. Merrin held a firm grasp on his back as they rushed him to an open cot. 

“Ah, come on!” Greez shouted as he watched them trail a ragged Cal past him, “If he bleeds all over my furniture, I’m gonna be the one to kill him, not whatever happened.” 

The words ticked off Merrin. She knew Greez was all too familiar with Cal and his injuries, but this was serious. Not as serious as Nur... but he was at risk, and she needed to heal him. 

“Help clean the wound,” Merrin ordered. 

Cere reached to the nearby med-pack, which held the typical supplies to fight off surface injuries. After removing his tunic, Cere set off to do what she could. 

Merrin sat down, reciting an incantation she knew well. Cal needed her, needed her at her best if she were going to save him. 

With green sparks rimming her eyes, Merrin let her enchanted hands hover over the large burn mark he had accumulated. She let her body become a conduit for her magick. 

-

The fog that clung to his brain started to dissipate, the bright light of his quarters shining through his eyelids. Cal groggily blinked away the sleep in his eyes, trying to adjust to the change. Just as his squinting had come to a halt, a figure blocked out the intense, blinding overhead light. 

“Merrin?” Cal asked as her face came into view. His shirt was off, and her hands were bathed in the green mist of her magick, hovering over his side. Some type of paste sat next to her. She let her hands drop when she saw he was awake. “What happened? How long was I out?”

Her serious, brown eyes were set on him, with a serious set to her brow. “Only for a few hours. You don’t remember?”

Cal let the back of his head thump against his bunk as he tried to recall the events of the last few hours. Force, it felt like he was knocked out for ages. His memory was a blur, he remembered the both of them being assigned to a mission by Cere, strictly informational. Find the contact, get what they need, then leave before things get bad. 

...He also remembered his failure to read the room the day before. This, he wished he would have forgotten. 

“No, I don’t.” He replied. “Care to tell me what did this?” Cal gestured to his side, which was slightly burnt, and, somewhat numb from whatever paste Merrin had applied. Bacta on the ship was low, so Merrin was their resident healer. Well, Cal’s healer, as he was the only one that ever got banged up. 

“A stormtrooper with a...” She paused to find the word, “launcher ambushed us. You tried to use the Force to push it back. As you can see... It could have gone better.” Merrin recapped. 

“Yeah,” he grunted as he tried to twist onto his side. The wound felt... odd. Raw and aching, but numb on the surface. “It could’ve.”

Her face softened, “How do you feel?” 

“Sore,” he replied. “Nothing too bad, thanks to you. Are Cere and Greez out front?”

Cal watched Merrins head dip slightly at his compliment. “No. Cere went to find the informant and Greez went out for supplies. She assured me she would be fine, while I stayed here to heal you.” 

“Okay,” the Jedi nodded. All Cal could do was wait, hope for the best on his failed mission. He sighed, still looking at the Nightsister in front of him. 

Silence settled over them for a bit, Merrin had turned her head to stare at the mixing bowl filled with the light green salve. Cal watched as she traced her finger around the rim of the bowl. 

A light grunt emanated from Cal as he tried to readjust himself, bringing Mer’s attention back to him. 

“Here,” she said, setting a hand into his bare shoulder to encourage him to lay back, “let me finish my session.”

Cal didn’t argue, wordlessly letting her touch guide him. Merrin changed to herself under her breath, the green flow encapsulating her hands as she pressed them gingerly to the slightly charred flesh. 

The redhead's eyes darted between the ceiling and Merrins fingers. He never had an injury as bad as this since Merrin had been along, besides the puncture hole, the feeling of the skin knitting back together was slightly repulsive, yet interesting. When he received his lightsaber injury, he’d been unconscious while the crew dealt with it, and Cal wasn’t sure if it was bacta or magick or a bit of both. 

After some time, the flow retreated, and Cal looked to see the mostly healthy skin. It would take a while for it all to grow back. 

“It’ll scar,” Merrin said as she pulled back, turning to look at him. 

Cal gave her what he hoped was a light hearted shrug, “What’s one more?” 

Merrins lips turned to a frown, and her already serious expression turned downcast. “You have so many,” she whispered quietly. 

He hoped to lighten the mood. He didn’t quite like seeing the Nightsister worry about him, much less sad because of him. “Well, when you’re off trying to fight the Empire, it happens,” he tried to joke. 

The crease between her brows remained. Merrin traced her index finger around the saber scar, which was till tender from time to time. Her finger drifted to another one, across his abdomen. His torso alone was littered with marks. It sent goosebumps across his skin, and he had to stop himself from shivering.

“Tell me how you got them,” Merrin requested softly.

He was taken aback by her ask, yet obliged. He propped himself up in order to look down at them. “That one was from a scrapping accident when I was younger. A lot of them are.” He watched her drag her fingers to another one, right above the side of his ribs. He felt his body temperature unpleasantly rise. 

“And this?” She asked, rubbing the pad of her finger against the pearly skin. 

“Training accident,” Cal remarked. “When I was a youngling. I was practicing the basics with my friend, and he didn’t have the safety setting emitter on his lightsaber.”

Merrin turned to look him in the eye, quirking her brow, “Lightsabers have... safety settings?”

Cal shook his head and smiled, “No, just the ones they let the younglings use. They wanted us to feel what it was like to wield a real one before we constructed our own, we’d use the normal emitter for training droids and safety for sparring and drills, at a lower power level.”

The witch let her head turn back to his torso. There were many little ones, from scrapping accidents, she wagered. Her gaze settled onto a larger one, a slash, on his bicep. There was a smaller one under it. 

Cal felt her soft palms skim his arm before settling. “The top ones from Trilla. A stormtrooper got a lucky shot on the other one.” He smirked, but her expression didn’t change, and his own lips fell. 

Cal didn’t realize that Merrin moved closer. He kept his eyes locked on her face as she drew her hands along his facial scars. She was so close. Her face was so close to his. 

Her thumb brushed against the nick above his eyebrow. 

“All of these are scrapping accidents, I’m afraid. No real exciting stories,” He said bashfully, desperately hoping she couldn’t see his cheeks start to heat up on the surface of his pale skin. 

Her hand extended to the line across his nose, tickling his skin. “You were not very careful,” the Nightsister commented. 

Cal let out a small tsk. “No, I wasn’t. But I was a scrawny fourteen year old when I got that one. I wasn’t all that useful, then, they made me crawl through the rubbish. Cut myself on a piece of railing in a banged up ship.” 

Merrins throat rumbled in a quiet Mmm. She inched her head ever closer, to observe his jaw line. His largest scar, laid out, running from his neck to cheek. 

“This one,” she murmured, so faintly, so softly, “tell me. It carries so much pain, I can feel it.”

His breath hitched when she cradled the cusp of his jaw and neck. That scar, he brandished. It stood for all he had lost, all he was fighting for. 

“From the purge,” his voice vibrated, low and coarse, “a clone shot me while my Master was dying. We got into the escape pod moments after.” 

Merrin met his eyes, pulling her hand away. “This is the mark of a warrior. Your honor.”

Cal let his head dip, his eyes closed. His scar told a story, like his own personal echo in the force. The Jedi felt Merrins hand connect with his jaw again, her index finger on his chin, gently urging him to look at her. Her thumb reached to his lip, where an old scar had nearly faded away. 

When he looked up, she was so close. 

Inches away, maybe less, with the pad of her thumb gliding over his bottom lip. 

“A reminder, it is,” she spoke, her breath so warm against his skin, “to all you have yet to do.” 

Merrin pressed her lips to his, at first a ghosting, a promise, before the tug to reciprocate was too great for Cal, and he pushed back. 

The young Jedi Knight quickly learned that Merrin was the dominant one. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised. 

He really shouldn’t have been. 

Not when she’d been aggressive in her attacks on Dathomir, not when she was locked in constant battles with Greez, her dry humor and quick wits to defend her, and definitely not when she leaned in harder, as she started to take his bottom lip between her teeth. 

A muffled grunt escaped Cal, and that’s when Merrin pulled back, resting her forehead against his own, eyes closed. 

They stayed like that for some time, until Cal had started to lightly chuckle, his shoulders slightly bouncing more than any sound coming out of his mouth. Merrin looked up at him, her brow turned upward. “Is something funny?”

“No. Well, yes, but not really... sort of?” He fumbled lamely, just causing the Nightsister to raise an eyebrow even higher. “I’ve, uh... Never done this. I kind of... don’t really know anything.”

Merrin continued to look at him, silently, a quirk to her lips as he continued to ramble on: “The Order wasn’t very... uh, accepting of this type of stuff. I mean, when I was younger on Bracca, I saw some cheesy shows on the holonet—“

“Cal,” Merrin said, attempting to draw him away from his long winded explanation. 

“—And I know Greez watches those and sometimes the workers on at the scrapyard would talk about this stuff and, well, Prauf gave me the talk when I turned fourteen and...”

“Cal Kestis,” Merrin raised her voice slightly, taking on a strict, commanding tone as she held back an uncharacteristic snicker. Her voice melted back into a more typical sound, “Quiet. You talk as much as Greez.”

Merrin pressed back into his lips, racking her nails lightly over his jaw before he pulled back. 

“Look, Mer, I... About yesterday, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I definitely don’t want to pressure you into anything now...” His eyes flickered away, and back up to her face. He looked as though he was about to continue, before the Nightsister interrupted him once again:

“Cal, when I asked what you were doing, it was not because I was confused. I just wanted a straightforward answer.” She thought for a moment. “I wished for you to just tell me how you felt. Us Nightsisters... we have always been candid, transparent.”

He let his head drop. “Well, that's embarrassing... I think you’ve got a pretty good grasp of how I feel, now.” 

“I do,” she responded. “But I wouldn’t mind you saying it out loud.” Her face turned sly. 

Cal rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. “If you say so, dear Nightsister.”

“No need to be melodramatic.”

“That’s rich, coming from the woman who sent hordes of Nightbrothers to kill me.”

Merrin scowled in good nature. “Tell me,” she said softly, “I want to hear it.”

Cal observed her face. The harsh lighting of the ship was blocked by her form, leaving a shadow across her visage. She held her typical stone faced expression, save for the upward turn of her lips, and soft eyed in that moment. “I really like you, Merrin. I like being with you, I like the way you speak and act and your jokes.” He answered lightly. Cal thought for a moment, “I like when you use your magick and when you argue with Greez, Mer.”

Cal saw a darker tint to her cheeks, nearly unnoticeable. “We both have finally learned how to live again, to move forward. And I want to be apart of that, with you, Merrin.”

“Cal,” she murmured, the tips of her fingers ghosting his chin. “I want that, too.” 

With that, she brought his lips up to her own, and they kissed. Each brush of their lips was deliberate and sedated. Slow, unhurried, a promise for the future. There was no reason to rush. They had so much ahead of them.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! This is kind of like the introduction into the primary post-game story I’m working on. I hope you’ll stick around for that if you enjoyed this :)


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